The cabin of the jet was a world of hushed luxury—cream leather, polished wood, and the soft clink of crystal—but the atmosphere felt heavy as the plane leveled out over the Atlantic. Killian was already staring at a laptop screen, his fingers flying across the keys, the "CEO" mask firmly in place.
Raya watched him for a moment, the hum of the engines a constant reminder that every mile was taking her closer to the life she’d left behind. She reached out, resting her hand over his on the keyboard to stop his pace.
"Killian," she said softly, waiting for his dark eyes to meet hers. "We need to talk about what happens when we land. Not the Henderson account, and not the merger. Us."
Killian closed the laptop, giving her his undivided attention. "I’m listening."
"I live in New York," she
